Searching for Sanity
by My Beautiful Ending
Summary: Tierney "Piper" Lawson is found at the scene of a crime with amnesia. She is committed to Arkham and there meets its crazy inmates, like the mysterious Jonathan Crane. She wonders if everything is as it seems... and then the Joker shows up. JCXOC JXH R&R!
1. Prologue, or Am I Lost or Found?

**Hey Everyone! This is actually a grand experiment with writing a story with multiple chapters, and later on, an experiment on writing in first person. I don't mind criticism if it's the constructive kind. Let me know what you think. Please Review!**

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**Prologue, or, Am I lost or found?**

The dark haired girl's screams could be heard even through the squad car. Sergeant Gordon winced inwardly as he spoke to the cop who had found the situation. "So what happened here?"

The cop, a regular on the beat, said, "We got an anonymous tip that someone was dead in an alley. We went to check it out and we found the corpse of a white male, blond, about 30, with multiple stab wounds in his abdomen. We found the girl a little ways away, unconscious, covered in blood and holding the knife. We brought her around and found she had a large bump on her head. She couldn't tell us her name or how she came to be in that alley, and she went crazy when we said we would have to take her in for questioning. She became violent and my partner and I restrained her and arrested her." Her screams hit a piercing cry as his partner nodded in the affirmative, agreeing. The bruise on his chin testified to that fact.

"What the *!^# is she screaming?" Gordon's partner, Flass, asked the cop.

The man didn't have to respond; they could hear it for themselves. "I DIDN'T DO IT! I DIDN'T KILL HIM! I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM! PLEEEEASE!!!"

"What a kook," Flass said in disgust.

Gordon shifted his gaze from the twenty-six-or-seven year old girl to the policeman. "Has she got any ID on her?"

"Yeah, a driver's license and some credit cards. We're running them through the system now. The name on them is Tierney Lawson."

Gordon shook his head. "Any ID on who the body is?"

"No. We're working on it."

Gordon shook his head again. The girl screamed again and ebbed into gasping sobs. _What a mess,_ Gordon thought, gazing at the girl with sympathy.


	2. 1: Decisions, Decisions

**Oh yeah, a quick note for all you Joker fans, he will appear in this story! Just not very soon. I'm going to try to keep the characters in context, and I'll try to upload at least once a week, more if I can manage it. :)**

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**Chapter 1: Decisions, Decisions.**

Dr. Jonathan Crane stared at the dark-haired girl behind the glass wall. Her long hair hung in front of her face as she sat curled in a ball in the corner of the room.

"Move her to the secure wing," he said abruptly to the orderly by his side. "Then put her on the list."

"Are you sure, sir?" the subservient orderly asked him.

"Now, why would I tell you to put her on the list if I wasn't sure?" Dr. Crane asked, his icy blue eyes narrowing behind his rectangular glasses.

The orderly wilted. "Yes, sir." He left to do what had been ordered.

Dr. Crane resumed staring at the girl behind the glass. His dark hair was threatening to spill into his shockingly blue eyes. He was dressed for work, wearing dress pants, collared shirt, sweater vest, and coat. The girl wore only an orange jumpsuit, the Arkham Asylum uniform for its inmates, and white tennis shoes. It was not a one-way sheet of glass, so she could see out, but she did not lift her head or look up.

_She'll be the final touch on the plan. _

Dr. Crane flipped through the file in his hand one last time, and then shut it. He turned and walked to his office to complete his notes. After sitting down at his desk, he opened up the file. The file contained the following information:

**Patient Number: **9948127

**Name:** Tiernay Kerry Lawson

**Aliases: **Piper

**Gender: **Female

**Age:** about 26 or 27

**Birth Date:** Unknown

**Mailing Address**: Unknown

**Psychiatrist**: J. Crane

**Reason for Admittance:** Found in an alley with a knife in her hand, a body close by her with multiple stab wounds. Amnesia and violent behavior were the contributing factors leading to her incarceration.

**Diagnosis:** Amnesia. Anger problems, aggression, adjustment issues, and depression stem from this. Disconnected with reality.

**Suicide Watch**: Previously

**Treatment: **After two weeks of treatment, the patient overcame her depression and was moved out of the suicide ward. Her anger is still very rampant, however.

**Doctor Notes:**

Patient insists she did not kill the person in the alley. Identified by her ID in her wallet in her pocket, although she insists she remembers being called "Piper" at some point in time. No record of her in any schools, databases, or even in the DMV. Very suspicious. Conversations with the patient indicate she is not grounded in reality. Her frustration and anger at the inability to remember her past is the influence behind her aggression and depression.

_Personal Notes: Fear gas experimentation not necessary for this one. She has enough motivation on her own. Note to self: transfer her to the secure wing to be released at the proper time. Tell Michaels to add her to the list of prisoners that will be released when the gas is dispersed. _

The notes added after he had gone over the following information:_ Done and done. Patient very withdrawn inwardly today. No verbalization at all, no eye contact, not even a glance around her surroundings; however, no probable effect upon behavior after fear gas is administered. Planned date for release: one week._


	3. 2: Freedom

**2: Freedom**

A buzzer sounded; the cell door swung open slowly. The brown-haired girl looked up, perhaps for the first time that day. The door opened onto a puke-yellow hallway. All the girl saw was an avenue of _escape,_ from this place where doctors came and looked at her and talked at her, where other people stared at walls the same way she did and where heart-wrenching cries were heard in the night. She wanted out of this place, one of the few places she remembered besides the alleyway and MCU. She stood up and ran for the door.

All around her other patients wearing the same orange jumpsuits were doing the same thing. There was no talking; the only sound that was heard was the pounding of feet. No one took any notice of anyone else. The short dark-haired girl was soon lost in the mass of people. She just followed the crowd, having no clue where she was going, though they seemed to know.

After going down multiple flights of stairs, and through dim, deserted hallways, the crowd arrived at a huge hole blown in one wall. The mob checked for a moment, then ran out the wall, scattering. The girl looked first left, then right, deciding on the right. The darkness hid her better than the others, who were mostly large men with shaved heads. The orange jumpsuits didn't help much either. She dashed down a dark alley and then another, making a zigzag pattern. She had no clue where she was going or what she was running from; the only thought in her mind was to get _away_.

Bam!

In a straight line on the side of the road, manhole covers came flying off, accompanied by huge puffs of gas. One of the puffs hit the girl right in the face. The gas smelled humid and harsh, full of chemicals, spreading everywhere, around buildings, through windows, into houses, up into the sky. Her lungs burned, and she coughed violently.

She thought she would never get a breath of air again, and as she gasped for clean air, in that moment –_clarity._

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**Just to note: the chapters after this are going to be in first person. And the review button is right down there :)**


	4. 3: Sanity in the Midst of Chaos

**AN: After this story gets finished, I'm going to go back and edit all of it, promise. And finals are coming up, so updating might not be as regular as I'd like. So, I hope you like it, and please review!**

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**3: Sanity in the Midst of Chaos**

The air –the gas –burned my throat. It hurt to breathe. The world spun and my vision twisted. Distorted shapes wandered out of the mist and darkness. I peered through my curtain of brown hair in fear. My breath hitched and I hit an invisible panic button. _They're coming to get me the monsters they'll kill me please don't let them hurt me ahhh!!!_ I couldn't stop myself from hyperventilating.

Some part of me, in the back of my mind, said _**Wait.**_ I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists. _I need to THINK._ This _wasn't _real_._ _I need to be rational,_ I told myself. _Think._ I was still breathing fast, but I was in control.

_Okay. Okay. I'm not in…that place. What's its name? Arkham. I'm not there anymore. I'm in Gotham. First things: food, shelter, and clothing._ I could hear screams, shots, and general chaos begin to ensue. _And somewhere safe to hide._

I could do something about the hiding spot. I crawled into a dark alley and hid in the blackness. I had a good view of the street, lit by a streetlight. People ran by, looking like monsters, hitting each other, attempting to kill each other. Someone had a bull's head; another sported devils horns; still another didn't have a face at all, only empty eye sockets and a gaping mouth that belched smoke.

_It's not real! People don't have heads like that!_ I tried to tell myself, but my body was reacting without my authorization. I could not stop shaking! Finally I just shut my eyes and plugged my ears, and tried to keep a hold on my reason. _Is it because I'm crazy? I'm not crazy am I? If it's not me, what is it? _

_Fear._ The answer came easily enough. "The only thing you have to fear is fear itself." Who said that? Wasn't it FDR? I remembered the rest. "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself –nameless, unreasoning, unjustified, terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."

_The gas._ It wasn't me seeing those –creatures –it was the gas in my body. Just thinking about that made me relax minutely. It was essentially the thing that scared me the most: the unknown. I knew what was happening to me, so the fear lessened its grip on me. I began playing with the plastic bracelet on my arm –you know, the kind they put on little children at preschools and things that are impossible to get off. Except theirs were paper and mine was plastic. It had a name on it: Tierney Kerry Lawson. I had no idea if it was mine. I knew it sounded familiar, so it might have been mine. "Tierney," I whispered to myself, taking my fingers out of my ears so I could hear it.

"Tierney Kerry Lawson." Something –a flicker, a sliver, really –of memory flared to life and then died. It was a feeling of warmth, I thought. There was a fire, and I could see that on a pair of arms, my arms, was a worn flannel shirt. I rubbed my own arms. My first memory, other than the deep conviction that someone had called me Piper at one point in time! Wow.

"Piper," I said out loud, just to try it. The flare was bigger this time: I got an impression of blue sky and strong wind. _"C'mon Piper, sing your heart out."_ Then nothing.

I could _remember._ I could remember! It was happening!

But why?

First thought: _It must have been the gas. There's no other explanation. _

Second thought: Sane. I've gone sane.  
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Someone with claws and fangs ran by my hiding place. Knowing that the things I saw were only figments of my imagination didn't make them less frightening. I leaped up and ran. _So much for staying put._ I became one of the running, screaming mob of people. Someone tried to smash my head like a melon with a club maybe used by Tarzan. Anger exploded within me; I ducked and kicked him in the gut. I may have been short, but I was strong for a girl. I kept running for a long time, avoiding people.

Finally, I slowed, trying to quiet my heart. _Clip clop clip clop…_ What was that noise? I peered around a corner.

First thought: where did he get that _horse?_

Second thought: I had been counseled by a _psycho?_

For the person on the horse was my psychiatrist, Dr. Jonathan Crane. The fear gas began acting; it seemed like the horse had glowing red eyes and breathed flames! I could not see his face. Although I had never seen his mask, the patients of the asylum had whispered about it. He experimented on patients with it, though he had never done it to me. It looked like …a scarecrow.

Shrinking back, I tried to hide in the shadows and prayed that he would not see me. He passed me, but following him were a crowd of men –in orange uniforms. _Crazies, made crazier by this poison!_ I froze in place until the last one passed me. Then I broke and ran.

Two weeks later.

I looked out at the long line. It stretched around the block and was growing longer. If I wanted the cure for the fear toxin, I would need to get in it now. I double checked myself: I wore a long sleeved blue shirt to cover up the wristband I still could not get off, jeans, the same white tennis shoes, and a black jacket with the hood up, hopefully covering my face. _You can do this, Tierney,_ I told myself. I walked out of the alley and got in line.


	5. 4: Session plus Psycobabble

**4: Session Plus Psychobabble**

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I rolled over on my bed and stared up at the ceiling: caught.

They had been on the lookout for unaccounted crazies; I was nabbed right after I got the shot of anti-fear stuff. Resisting capture and punching an officer didn't really help my case when I told them I wasn't crazy. And so, here I was, back again. But this time, I knew where I was. I still couldn't remember what had happened before I came to in that alley, and I still had anger and violence problems. If I got mad, I would still punch someone in the face. But that didn't make me crazy, and I shouldn't be here.

A guard swung open my door, and I looked up. "Time for your session." I got up without a word and followed. A day at Arkham for me went something like this: Wake up, go to breakfast. Go to group therapy. Go back to your cell. Go to lunch, go to your session with your psychiatrist, go to the Rec. room/outside, go to supper, go back to your cell, go to sleep. And then wake up again.

The fluorescent lighting sure didn't do anything for your mental health, that was for certain. The guard pushed me into the conference room. I sat down in a metal chair on one side of the table; the other chair was empty. Nothing else was in the room. Leaning back in the chair, I reflected that even the doctors –no, especially the doctors –played mind games here. I was put in first, to show that I was not important and that I waited upon the doctor, not vice versa.

After a few minutes, the door opened and a woman in a business suit and skirt ensemble walked in. I tilted my head back and looked at her. She looked about my age, actually, if my age could be deemed correct. Her hair was most likely dyed that shade of blond, with pale highlights, and it was cut short somewhere between her ears and her shoulders. Wearing heels and makeup, she walked to the other chair and sat down.

"Hello. My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel." She opened the file in her hand. "And you are Tierney Lawson."

"So they tell me," I said with a smile.

"Ah, yes, you are suffering from amnesia." Her mouth was a prim line.

"Is that a crime?"

She blinked, concentration broken. "No, of course not."

"It's just that I'm not really crazy, and if I haven't committed a crime, why am I here?"

"Miss Lawson" –

"Piper."

She paused. "Excuse me?"

"Call me Piper or Tierney. If you call me Miss Lawson, I'll start looking around, wondering who you're talking to."

"Ah. Miss Tierney, you are suffering from amnesia. You were also found at the scene of a crime that you cannot prove you are not involved with."

_Wow, really? I never knew that. Thank you SO MUCH for telling me._

Dr. Quinzel continued, "In light of this, your condition merits counseling and therapy along with….." she spouted a bunch of terms I had never heard before. I made a fist; psycobabble made me mad. And she noticed. "Your problems controlling your anger and violent urges also contribute to….." I zoned out. Why should I bother paying attention to something I didn't understand? She finished, "And really, if you left here, where would you go?"

She smiled, like she had dropped a bombshell on me. I probably wasn't supposed to respond. I know what she intended me to think about: I have no memory, I know 0 people in Gotham, etc. I decided to be a bad girl and play on a hunch I'd had ever since she walked in the room. I don't know what it was, maybe just the fact that her skirt was a little too short, heels a little too high, lips a little too red. Plus the added fact that she seemed a little too young for this job.

I smiled. "I'd probably like to go back to school and get a degree in something instead of sleeping my way through school."

Pay dirt. Her cheeks turned an angry red and she glared at me. "I resent that implication," she hissed.

"Hey, you asked," I said with a smile.

Our session kind of went downhill from there.

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**Hey! I hope you like it! Since it's Thanksgiving week (yay!), let's play a game. Everyone who reads this (and I DO mean everyone) leave a review and say something you're thankful for, even if it's just that you're thankful for a week off school. Okie dokey? Good. I'll go first.**


	6. 5: We're All Mad Here

**I am very happy about how this chapter came out. And guess who reappears!!!! No, I'm not going to tell you. You have to read it. **

**Anyway, here you go! **

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**Searching for Sanity**

**5: We're All Mad Here  
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Three weeks later

Dr. Quinzel didn't like me much. She gave me what I had started calling, 'the look' when I got smart-mouthed. The idea that I start a journal to put down things if I remember was the only good idea she had. So now I carried a composition notebook and pen everywhere. One momentous day she cut our session short and sent me to the rec room early. It was great. The orderly shooed me into the room and I waved to the few guys that were in there. One of the things I disliked about the secure ward (well, not like I liked the secure ward, but the thing that I disliked the most) was the dominantly male population. There were only a few other women, and to be honest, they scared the heck out of me. I collapsed by the old TV on a beanbag missing more than a few beans, kinda like the residents. "Hey Edward," I said to the tall thin man on the couch holding the remote. Edward Nashton was pretty funny; he kept me entertained.

"Hello Tierney. What walks on four feet in the morning, two at midday, and three at night?"

I grinned happily, knowing the answer. "Man."

"Explain."

"He's a baby that crawls, then a grown man, then an old man with a cane."

"And where does this knowledge come from?"

I thought a minute. "_Antigone,_ or maybe one of those other plays about Oedipus_."_ That was another thing I liked about Edward; he helped me remember things. I pulled out my notebook and wrote down _Antigone_, a Greek tragedy. I could remember bits of the plot, too.

Edward leaned over to say in a low voice, "Riddle me this, Tierney, why is Arkham all a-tither?"

I thought a second. "Is this a real riddle, Edward?"

"No, it's a guessing game."

"Okay…because some new doctor or patient is coming?"

"Exactly." He leaned back onto the couch. It was ripped and needed new springs.

"C'mon Edward, don't leave me hanging." I said with annoyance.

" `Then you should say what you mean,' the March Hare went on. `I do,' Alice hastily replied; `at least--at least I mean what I say--that's the same thing, you know.' `Not the same thing a bit!' said the Hatter. `You might just as well say that "I see what I eat" is the same thing as "I eat what I see"!' "

I smiled. "Hello Jervis." The short man's hair was in a crazy cloud around his head. _Hat hair, _I thought to myself, giggling inside a little. Except the doctors at Arkham wouldn't let him have his hats.

" 'Your hair wants cutting.'" He told me, coming around to sit by Edward on the couch.

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. " `You should learn not to make personal remarks. It's very rude.' " I told him, kiddingly. Jervis Tetch helped me remember too, but all he helped me with were _Alice in Wonderland_ jokes. Of the crazies, they were probably the easiest to be around. "But Edward, tell me what's going on."

He raked a hand through his hair. "You'll see, Tierney. I don't want to spoil the surprise, after all."

And I couldn't pry anything out of them after that.

Suppertime.  
We were all herded into the Arkham equivalent of a cafeteria/buffet. I sat with Edward and Jervis to eat the questionable food. It wasn't awful by my standards, but it could definitely have been better. As I put a bite of overcooked broccoli into my mouth, a ripple of whispers crossed the room. I chewed and swallowed as I turned to face the door of the room. The orderlies pushed an average-sized man with brown hair, glasses and piercing blue eyes into the room.

First thought: _he doesn't look good in orange at all._

Second thought_: I'm dead. _

No idea why my second thought happened. It was one of those, _oh no –now I'm in trouble, help-run_ kind of thoughts. The ones that are caused by unreasonable panic. I nearly choked on my broccoli.

Edward was grinning out of one side of his mouth, giving it a mocking twist. Some of the other inmates were beginning to make low comments under their breath, but Crane shot them an icy glare and they quelled almost instantly. _The Master of Fear still has his touch,_ I thought to myself, taking another bite. I honestly couldn't remember much about the sessions I had with him. There was no fear gas, I remembered that much. I remembered his expression, somewhere between boredom and condescension. I also remembered ranting and yelling and throwing my chair at a wall. Dear Dr. Crane only raised an eyebrow at me and pressed the button under the table, summoning an orderly to take me back to my cell. I wasn't allowed to leave it for the rest of the day. Sort of like putting a child in time-out, except it was much more… final.

Anyway, I was shocked and slightly nervous as he got his food and walked over to _our table,_ of all the tables in the room. I stared at my food and kept eating. _Why don't you just keep walking?_

Evidently, mind reading was not one of the many talents Dr. Jonathan Crane possessed. "Mr. Nashton, Mr. Tetch. Miss Lawson," he said in his low voice as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

Under the table, my hand made a fist.

"Your therapist still his not dealt with your anger management issues, I see," he said with a smirk.

My head whipped around, and I glared openly at him. "I don't care what you say. You're just as crazy as everyone else in this place now."

"On the contrary. I was sentenced before I received the antidote." Everyone knew exactly which antidote he was talking about.

"I think you went crazy _way_ before Batman dosed you with your own fear gas…" I trailed off. His blue eyes were fixed on me, and there was definitely malice in them. I shoved a bite of food into my mouth to make myself shut up.

"I have an excellent idea. Let's change the subject," Jervis said, quoting the March Hare from the movie Alice in Wonderland.

"Dr. Crane how is life on the outside? Why don't you tell us all about it," Edward said smoothly, his face betraying no negative expression.

Jervis added, "Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

"I assure you, I plan to," Dr. Crane said, the malice gone and replaced by a barrier that I could not see past. It was not altogether reassuring.

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**You know that tell-what-you're-thankful-for thing from last chappie? It's not Thanksgiving yet so it still applies. **

**Hit the magic button and make my day :D**


	7. 6: Happiness is a Nice Harley

**I'm sorry!! I know it's short. Promise the next chapter will be longer. Feel free to review and bug me for an update; it makes me feel appreciated. [:**

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**6:**** Happiness is a Nice Harley**

Y'know, just when I thought I didn't like Harley, she turns around and does something nice.

I had started calling her Harley after a session where we had pretty much insulted each other the whole time. I made a play on her name and asked her if she rode a motorcycle. Yeah, it was a bad pun; don't remind me. That was why the world had people like Edward Nashton to make the jokes. Anyway. Our session went something like this.

*Harley walks in the door and sits down across from me, adjusting her glasses*

Me: Hi Harley.

Harley: *frowns* It's Doctor Quinzel, Tierney.

Me: *smiles* Right Harley.

Harley: How is your memory recovery coming? *Shuffles paper*

Me: I remembered the Quadratic Formula. *Begins to sting to the tune of pop goes the weasel* X equals the opposite of B, plus or minus the square root of B squared minus 4AC, all over 2A!!!

Harley: That's good. *expression does not match words* How are you doing with your adjustment?

Me: I've got no idea what I'm supposed to be adjusting to. But I'm really bored.

Harley: Why is that? *clicks her pen in preparation to begin writing*

Me: All they have to read here is biographies of famous people who never did anything wrong.

Harley: Why don't you like those?

Me: ...They _never did anything wrong_. Nobody wants to read about perfect people -they don't exist!

Harley: Would you like other books to read?

A pause.

Me: Yes…

Harley: What kind of books?

Me: Fiction, fantasy. I don't care if they're kid books. Just…something.

Harley: I can get you a library card and you can place holds on books through the computer in my office. Someone can take the books back and forth to the library.

Me: …You'd do that? Seriously?

Harley: I'd do it if you'd start taking our sessions and group therapy seriously.

Me: Anything else?

Harley: Be honest; don't hide behind that smile and your bad jokes.

So it wasn't just me that thought they were bad. Whoops.

Me: I'll be honest if you'll be honest back. And I get to call you Harley.

Harley: *thinks about it* …Deal.

So now I get a steady stream of entertainment in the form of paper and ink between a binding. _Harley isn't so bad after all._


	8. 7: Mind Games

**AN: I know, I know, It's short. Sorry!!! I have finals soon, and I have to made huge decisions as to where this plot is going!!! The next chapter will be really good, promise. Hope you like it and please review!**

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**7: Mind Games**

I had just gotten my first book, _The Lilac Fairy Book_ by Andrew Lang. Curled up in one of the couches lining the Rec room, I was reading with half my mind on the book, and the other half on the movie playing on the television. The Rec room had a supply of videos, but since they didn't want us watching anything that would damage our minds any further, they movies were "appropriate."

First translation: They were all rated G.

Second translation: They were all animated Disney movies. Both were true.

But evidently someone had bought these movies wholesale or something, and _The Black Cauldron_ had gotten tossed in with them. Though it is animated, if you've ever seen it, you'd know that it is really creepy, and is actually rated PG. So if one of the psychos had control of the TV, half the time we would watch that. It was fine with me, because I liked the movie. (In fact, the book by Lloyd Alexander was on the list I had given to Harley. I put down very well known books such as the Prydain Chronicles, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and the Chronicles of Narnia to see if I could remember reading them.)

But if Jervis had control of the TV, which was the other half of the time, we watched _Alice in Wonderland._ That's what we were watching now. It was a little scary, because he could quote along with the whole movie. I glanced up to watch Dinah the cat, because I liked cats (at least I think I did), and then returned my gaze to my book. Absorbed in my book, I barely felt someone sit down by my on the couch.

"Are you enjoying your book?"

My eyes left the pages and traveled to Jonathan Crane's face. "Uh…yeah, it's pretty good." I blinked. "Why are you talking to me, Crane?"

"Dr. Crane," he corrected.

I raised an eyebrow.

Was it just me, or did his blue eyes sparkle as he smiled, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other? "Miss Lawson, they don't take away your doctorate just because you are incarcerated in a mental institution."

Translation: he was still a doctor.

"Well, I'm not that formal. So either call me Tierney or Piper or I'll hit you."

"Fair enough, Miss Tierney." He was definitely smirking.

"_Tierney," _I said, and punched his arm.

He flinched, but the smirk stayed on his face. I hadn't hit him that hard. "Tierney then."

I rolled my eyes and went back to reading my book. He watched the movie. When I was sure he wasn't looking at me, I glanced surreptitiously in his direction. Crane was leading back on the couch, relaxed, his blue eyes watching the screen, listening to the dialogue and to Jervis's echoes. Viewing him from the side, I could see his sharp jaw line and deep-set eyes. When he glanced over at me, I was peacefully reading my book again. 

_I can play mind games too, Crane._


	9. 8: Pain and Consequences

**Hey so this is that really good chapter I was telling you about! At least, I hope it's really good. I hope I put some nice cute moments in there. And I figured out where this story is going! So review and tell me what you think! :) How am I doing?  
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**8: Pain and Consequences**

I had no idea what was going on inside Crane's head. It had been two weeks since he had been shipped back to Arkham, and he insisted on talking to me! 'How are you, Tierney?' 'How did your session go, Tierney?' How is your memory Tierney?' 'Are you enjoying your current book, Tierney?' and his personal favorite (I thought), 'Why do you think your nickname is Piper, Tierney?'

It made me want to punch the wall. This morning I had had a nightmare before waking up. I couldn't remember it, but it scared me half to death, and as a result, I was _not_ a happy camper. There was a dark cloud over my head as I ate breakfast with Edward, Jervis, and Crane. I was non-responsive and wanted to scream.

_The dream had to do with my memory, right? If I could remember the dream, I could remember my past! But the dream had frightened me badly. _

_Did I want to remember my past? _

These were the questions that were going through my head as I ate. As soon as the bell rang to signal the end of breakfast, I bolted to the door. I could get rid of Edward and Jervis that way, but not Crane. He was in my group therapy session.

"Do I detect, Tierney, that something is unsettling you?"

My eyes tried to burn holes through him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I am afraid you will have to talk about it. That is the point of group therapy."

Crane, stop pointing these things out!

I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat, but wasn't working. Angry tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Clenching my jaw, I opened my eyes wide. I would not cry in front of this aggravating man! "Don't you get that I won't spill my guts to you?" My voice cracked, and I sped up down the hall, hoping to get to the room before he did.

"Tierney" –

"Shut up! Just shut up!" I burst through the doors of the room and found a seat _far away_ from him. The doctor in charge of this meeting, Dr. Hiram Browning, entered with three orderlies (who were there in case we did something retarded like attacking a doctor or something). The session began.

"I think we've had a good session today," Dr. Browning said, standing. "We've gone over self-understanding and had a few cathartic moments. I will see you all tomorrow." And with that, he left.

I made a beeline for the door and darted out it. Walking blindly down the hall, I smacked into someone. Someone really big. "Watch where you're going, tramp."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Anger rose up from some hidden reservoir, and I mouthed off.

"At least I'm not an empty-headed, moronic, cretinous half-wit like _some people_," I shot back, trying to shove my way around him. A huge hand grabbed my arm and squeezed so hard it felt like it was cutting off my circulation. My eyes traveled up, and up, and up. I was only about 5'4". Crane wasn't that tall, but he was still taller than me, so I was _really_ short. This person had passed six feet a long time ago. His eyes glowered at me, and his muscles bulged.

_Oh God –Bane._

I had made a _really bad_ mistake. I had only realized that before I was suddenly airborne, flying through the air. My shoulder and head cracked against the far wall and I slid to the floor. Instant agony. I struggled to breathe because the pain was so great.

Someone tried to help me up, and I freaked out, thinking it was Bane again, slapping and hitting with my eyes shut through the pain.

"Tierney! Tierney, get a hold of yourself! It's me, Jonathan!"

I opened my eyes to stare into the intense and anxious blue eyes of Jonathan Crane. I moaned wordlessly, shutting my eyes again.

"Tierney, come on. Can you stand? I have to take you to the infirmary." Strangely gentle hands tried to lift me from under my shoulders. I cried out as the shoulder that slammed into the wall shrieked its pain. The hands shifted their grip to my waist, and I was pulled to my feet by strong arms. His voice came again, low and throbbing. "We're going to walk, all right Tierney?" I nodded; eyes still closed, and then rested my face on his cloth-covered shoulder. Pain had spiked through my skull when I nodded. Keeping his hands securely around my waist, he propelled me through the halls of Arkham as orderlies followed behind.

After a minute or two of this, my head started spinning and my stomach started churning. "I have to stop," I whispered, "I feel like I'm going to hurl." We stopped moving. I let go of him and leaned against a wall, sliding down it until I hit the floor with a bump. I put my head in my hands and let the tears come. Fingers brushed my hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ear. I whispered something.

"What?" he asked me, crouching down beside me.

"I said, you were right. I need to keep a better hold on my anger." I rubbed my aching arm. "I found that out pretty fast."

"Maybe you'll listen a little better next time," Jonathan Crane said with a small smile. He unbuttoned the cuff of my sleeve and began rolling it up to get a better look at my bruises. I remembered too late.

"Wait, hold on–"

Too late. He had rolled my sleeve up to my elbow. We both had a good view of mottled yellow and purple bruises just staring to appear, plus seven small raised scars in the middle of my arm, tally mark style.

He brushed his thumb across the bumpy scars, and then his probing eyes met mine.

"I don't remember how I got them, okay? I don't remember," I said, almost hysterically.

He blinked, breaking our connection. "I believe you, Tierney. Let's get you to the infirmary." He helped me up and we continued down the hall. I wondered hazily, _why are the orderlies only following us?_ But I didn't really need the answer right then.

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**GASP!**

**Why does Tierney have scars on her arms?**

**How badly was she hurt?**

**Is Crane cute or what?**

**:) Stay tuned~~  
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	10. 9: Concern and Tylenol

**Hello again! Disclaimer: if I owned this stuff, would I be writing fanfiction about it?**

**And keep a close eye peeled: someone is going to be joining the story soon!**

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**9: Concern and Tylenol**

Harley couldn't decide whether to be concerned or triumphant about my injuries. Turns out, nothing was broken or concussed or anything, just bruised. Which was a pretty amazing feat, taking on Bane and only being bruised.

"This should teach you to keep a hold on your anger and aggression," Harley said pointedly.

"I _know._ Take a deep breath and count to ten and all that jazz." I had counted to ten before I spoke now, too. My attitude was pretty mild compared to what I was thinking. The headache I had didn't help. I said so.

"Did the doctor give you any Tylenol or anything?" Harley asked me.

"Ah, no, I don't think so."

Harley grabbed her purse and rummaged around in it. "Here," she said, pulling out a pill bottle and uncapping it. "Two Tylenols. Do you need water or anything?" She handed the pills to me.

I pushed my brown hair out of my face. "No…should you be doing this?"

"Giving you pills?" I nodded. "I'm your psychiatrist. I can do that." She smiled, liking the power.

I thought about this. "Okay, whatever." I didn't care if she had the authorization; I wanted the pain pills. I swallowed them without water. "Thanks."

"No problem." Harley pulled out my file. "So, we went over anger today. Anything else you want to talk to me about?"

"I don't know."

"Any idea where this anger comes from?"

I thought about it. "Bane… he called me a –a tramp. It made me mad, but it hurt too."

Harley made a note of it. "Anything else?"

"Don't think so."

She stood and prepared to leave.

"Wow, that was short." I stared at her with one eyebrow raised, wondering why on earth that was leaving.

"I think we can talk more when you're feeling better. Oh," she reached into her bag, "here's your second book." She tucked her blond hair behind her ear in a slightly embarrassed way.

"Thanks, Harley. Hey, can I ask you something?" I said really fast, before she left.

"What?" she asked curiously.

"Who were the guys that pulled Bane off me? I want to thank them."

"Oh, no one pulled him off you. My understanding is that after Bane threw you against the wall, Dr. Crane came between the two of you and said something to him that made him cease and desist." She picked up her bag and left the room.

I had nightmares again. I didn't remember much more about them, just a huge impression of darkness and fear. And screaming. Who was screaming, I don't know; it might have been me. But the next day wasn't any better than the day before, plus the added fact that I would need to apologize to Crane. I kept trying to figure out a way to say it all through breakfast, group therapy, and lunch, but the words would never come. Finally, when we were herded outside to soak in some vitamin D, I just blurted it out to him.

"I want to thank you for what you did. Stopping Bane. And for taking me to the infirmary. And –yeah," I said rather jerkily.

He looked at me, considering, and then replied, "You're quite welcome Tierney. Does this mean you'll listen to me now?"

"Maybe." I stared at the hard brick walls surrounding the courtyard. A fall breeze whipped through the fenced-in trees' leaves, and some flew off and spiraled around my feet. What was the point of coming outside for sunlight if the gray clouds obscured the sun? I rubbed my arms to keep off the chill as the wind continued to whistle through the trees_._

"…_Snow coming…come inside, little Piper!"_ I looked around, searching for the voice that called my name. _"You want some hot cocoa? We'll make some."_ It was a memory, I realized. Distant, I caught pictures of welcoming hands grasping a smaller pair –mine.

I blinked, and the memory shredded and blew away on the winds. "I remember. Someone _did_ call me Piper. But I don't remember who or when." Tears brimmed in my eyes, and I scrubbed them away with my sleeve. "I just –I just want to know who _I am._ Is that so much to ask?"

He tilted his head, looking at me sideways. "You have amnesia; it is quite a lot to ask that you recover all of your memory instantaneously."

I looked up at him. "I know _that_," I snapped. "When will it come back? Will it ever?"

"Your fear of not recovering your memory is causing you to shake, Tierney."

I froze. How had he noticed? "_What_?"

"Your mind has power over your body. And when the mind can only take so much, it shut's itself off until it can process the information it has received. That's why your memory is gone."

Was he _smirking_ at me? He was enjoying the fact that I couldn't remember. He found it funny. I was some kind of new experiment or toy he could play with when he had been kept from examining the other crazies.

Way to fail, Jonathan. "You know what? Just go away. Leave me alone." I brushed past him and walked to the far edge of the courtyard, sitting on a cold stone bench under a dying tree. The jerk; the insensitive, unfeeling –the other inmates were right. He had no soul. There was no person inside the ice-blue eyes and serious expression. There was a master manipulator of fear, nothing else. I had been wasting my time. He didn't give two beans about me. Taking me to the infirmary was just to get me to trust him so he could mess with me even more. Well, it wasn't going to happen again, no sir. He wouldn't play his games with me. Dr. Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow, could just… just… go die somewhere. See if I cared!

But why did my heart feel so empty?

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**You know what? I'll still update, but I'll update a lot faster if I get 5 reviews. It's a fair number. And hey, I take questions, comments, criticisms, etc. I want to get better in my writing, and you'd be helping me do so. So. Five reviews. Go!**


	11. 10: An Epic Poetic

**Thing one: Wow! I got 5 reviews fast! Thanks so much! **

**Thing two: This chapter may seem weird and cheesy, but it's necessary to set up her emotions for the following chappies. **

**Thing three: WARNING. Tierney writes bad poetry because I write bad poetry. Please don't kill me.**

**THing four: keep watching! because you never know who may show up in the next chapter or two!**

**And without further ado...**

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****1****0: An Epic Poetic**

Our respective doors that had been inching open toward each other to reveal the hidden rooms within were suddenly and mutually slammed in the other's face. I made sure he could see nothing but an inscrutable expression on my face. I could see nothing behind his impenetrable mask expect one thing: anger. This I knew because he had begun calling me "Miss Lawson" again. And I knew that Dr. Jonathan Crane's anger was dangerous.

I sat in my cell one night and pondered my awful situation. Would I _ever _get out of Arkham? Would I _ever_ be safe from Crane? _Oh, the cruel twists of fate._ It sounded poem worthy.

_Poems…_ I walked to my door and rapped on it. "Guard? I want some paper and a pen."

He gave me a yellow legal pad and a ballpoint pen and I sat on the cot and tried to put my thoughts in order.

Danger is a pair of blue eyes glaring  
at me.

Pain is the ache I feel in my soul when my mind  
taunts me with shreds of memory and steals them  
away again.

Love is the emotion I cannot remember feeling  
and do not ever think I will.

Fear is the automatic response  
to danger and pain.

Madness is the absence of love and an overabundance  
of fear.

I re-read what I had written with a critical eye. That made sense…sort of.

O woe, to think that freedom, once between my grasp  
is evermore lost to me.

Harley refuses to believe that I am sane,  
Jervis and Edward are mad,

and I have fallen out most drastically with Crane.

Arkham locks you up and takes away your liberty.

Love, a strange thing, one part happiness,  
one part pain,

tricks you, undoes you, traps you inside

until at last there is nowhere left to hide  
from your heart.

It presents you with the object of your desire and affection

and throws it in your face before it rips itself in two,

which is quite illogical when you think about it.

For hearts are not meant to rip, nor feel,

But to pump blood through your system.

So perhaps it is not my heart that is doing all this feeling.

Perhaps it's my head, but my head should know better.

Perhaps it's my eyes; perhaps it's my ears.

Perhaps I'm not in love at all.

Perhaps I never began to be in love in the first place.

Perhaps the only thing I ever felt for him was thankfulness,

which quickly died.

O sun, don't you agree that it is wretched unfair

that the cruelness of fate

Should manifest itself upon me?

I actually thought –for only a smidgen of an instant! –that he cared.

It must have been a crush because

That is what happened

To my heart.

I'm not in love.

Could I be in hate? In fear? In danger?

It is quite possible that I am in danger

from many people.

From coppers, from crazies,

from doctors, from daisies,

from unseen foes I know not of.

Beware, carry your vorpal blade in hand,

Let not my manxome foe triumph.

I shall go galumphing back to the slithy toves

So brillig, and to the mimsy borogoves

And the mome raths outgrabe.

I had started talking about love and emotions and ended up quoting the Jabberwocky poem.

Story of my life.

The part I remember, anyway.

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**Let's make it 10 reviews this time, just because I think the next chapter is worth it. XD [that's my evil face] So you know what to do! I love feedback. **

**Added bonus: We're having a contest! when you review, submit what you think would be a good summary for this story. I'm thinking mine isn't very good. **

**And away...we...go!  
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	12. 11: A Piece of the Action

**Thank y'all so much for the reviews! Miss Crane, Miss Riddler, Keysie, I AM the Batman Dag Nab it, PureDarkMagic, nicole napier, , ya'll are all totally awesome!!!!! nicole napier, thanks for the MULTIPLE reviews, they made me laugh. **

**This chapter was shorter than I would have liked, but the next one will be amazing! So review and tell me how I'm doing!**

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**11: A Piece of the Action**

Crane avoided me like the plague, and Edward would only talk to me in riddles so I finally told him if he couldn't say anything without encrypting it just not to talk to me at all. To top it all off, Jervis had started calling me "Alice." I was prepared to spill my guts for the first time ever to Harley about all this, but when I reported to my guard, or 'courier', he told me that I wasn't going to have a session with her today! On the one day I actually wanted to talk!

"Well, where is she? I really need to talk to her."

"She's meeting with the other doctors in the asylum about a new patient."

"They aren't allowed to schedule things that interfere with their patient's consultations and… things. Can you take me to her?"

"I'm not sure…" the normally in-charge guard was waffling.

"You can just take me and I'll wait outside. I won't interrupt or anything. I just –I need to talk to her as soon as she gets out." I brushed my brown hair off my orange shoulder and waited impatiently for his answer.

"I suppose…"

The words were barely out of his mouth before I grabbed his arm and yanked him down the hall. "Good, let's go." He didn't have to point me in the right direction; the interns and guards were all whispering and walking in the same direction. _Must be some prisoner they're bringing in,_ I thought. Pretty soon we hit a wall of people. _Why am I so short?_ I asked myself as I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see around the heads. Scanning the crowd, I picked out guards and orderlies I recognized… _there was Harley!_ I could see her in her grey business outfit topped by a white lab coat. Her blond hair accented the expression on her face: something between longing, excitement, and a hunting dog on point. I would have bet money she was wearing her red high heels; otherwise I would have never seen her.

I elbowed the guy. "Hey, I see her. I'm going to go stand by her. You don't have to stick around." He hesitated, but eventually let me go, watching to make sure that that's where I really was going. Inching past people, I finally pushed my way through to her. "Hey Harley," I panted, finding a space not occupied by a person. "I need to talk to you."

"Tierney!" She looked utterly amazed to see me. While she stared at me, I again realized that our ages were not too far apart. We could have been friends in another time. "What are you doing here?"

_Didn't I just tell you? _"I said – "

"Shh! You aren't supposed to be here. Keep quiet and don't call attention to yourself."

As soon as she had said that, an old man with grey hair and the complexion of a cadaver boomed over the throng, "Haven't we got things to do, people? Go do it! Move on, there's nothing to see here."

Wasn't that what cops said when a crime had been committed? Most people walked away reluctantly to do their jobs. The only people left were the asylum doctors and I.

Lo and behold, the cadaverous man caught sight of me. Orange didn't really let you blend into the awful yellow walls very well. "Dr. Quinzel! What is that patient doing here?"

"Dr. Arkham, this meeting is interrupting my counseling session with her. She will in no way interfere with the proceedings, I promise." Harley's hands were clenched behind her back. _That's Dr. Arkham? Whoa. He looks …well… like a cadaver. _Harley took my arm and pulled me along behind her. She parked me by a water cooler and said, "Stay here. Don't move until I come and get you. Okay?"

I regarded her, my brown eyes staring into her blue ones. "Sure. Thanks for not sending me back to my cell." She looked confused. "You could have, to save face in front of your boss."

She waved my thanks away. "Oh, Dr. Arkham's just full of hot air. Just don't move."

"I won't." She walked back to the huddle of doctors. There was one good thing about standing by this water cooler: it had a good view of the action. And the action began happening pretty fast.

A bunch of police-looking people came first, packing guns and looking as edgy as anything. Then came someone I remembered: Sergeant Gordon, from the night I was arrested, the first night I remember anything about. I strained to hear. Dr. Arkham was calling him _commissioner. _Wow! He had moved up fast. Then the fun really started. Three guys, who wore police uniforms but looked more like body builders, all had a tough grip on a slimmer figure in a straightjacket. They were strong-arming him past the group of doctors. I heard hysterical laughter drift down the corridor toward me; it jangled on my nerves and I winced. They passed on down the hall and I couldn't see them anymore. Anxious feet tapping on tile followed the Gotham policemen. Harley dashed toward me, grabbed my arm, and tugged me along wordlessly.

First thought: _how does she run in those high heels?_

Second thought: _who _was_ that guy?_


	13. 12: Enter the Clown

**Okay, so I've figured out that I'm not a long chapter kind of a girl. I guess it's just the way I write. Sorry! Anyways... new chap! hopefully the next one will be soon... IF YOU REVIEW! ....scary pause.... it will definitely come a lot faster if you review. okay. here goes.**

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**12: Enter the Clown**

I always wondered what it would be like to actually be behind one of those two-way mirrors, and now I know. Eyes large, I stared with rapt attention at the glass in front of me. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Harley doing the same, with the hunting-dog-on-point look on her face. The man in a white straight jacket on the other side of the glass held our attention even though he could not see us, although I believe he knew we were here. Long, tangled, greasy hair, once blond but now badly dyed green partly obscured his face. I was glad. His face, painted white, sported horrible scars on the sides of his mouth, painted red.

His eyes scared me the most; surrounded by black face paint, the shone with malevolence and something I couldn't name. You know when people feel triumphant or… or enjoy hurting people and smile in _that way_? It was whatever you call that.

"Who_ is_ that guy?" I whispered to Harley.

"The Joker," she whispered back. That told me absolutely nothing. _He doesn't look very funny…_

The man with his back to the glass was the gray-skinned Dr. Arkham. The questioning session wasn't going to well.

"Say, _doc…_ I betcha, ah, think I'm crrrazy, don'tcha?" His voice had strange inflections; he popped his 't's and 'c's and rolled his 'r's.

"We have evidence of your sadistic and psychopathic tendencies which conclude that you are psychotic, yes."

"Don't use your, uh, fancy _doc_tor language on me doc. It doesn't work." He smiled, displaying a flash of yellowed teeth before closing his lips. But then, it always looked like he was smiling.

"What is your name?" Arkham asked the man.

"Oh, c'm_on, doc,_ you know my name."

"Please tell me your name," Arkham said again.

The green-haired man leaned forward. "I'm the _Joker,_ doc. Who hasn't heard my name? You, uh, want me to _sp_ell it?"

_I must be really out of the news loop then if everyone's heard of this guy,_ I thought to myself, playing with a strand of my dark hair.

"Surely you weren't born with that name. Come now, what is it?" Arkham insisted.

"Guess." The Joker sat back in his metal chair and smirked. Arkham kept asking him what his name was, where he came from, why he killed people, all with no response. Finally, ten minutes later, the Joker sat up and looked straight at the mirror. "Send me somebody else. This doc's no _fun."_

Commissioner Gordon nodded from my side of the glass. "We have to play his game for now. If he won't talk to a doctor, he won't talk to a doctor and there's nothing we can do about it. Try somebody else."

Oh, they tried. They tried four other doctors. Either the Joker got bored after the first few repetitive questions, or he tried to pierce through their armor, and the doctor left before the Joker broke them. Harley shifted from foot-to-foot anxiously; she wanted a go at him, I could tell. _And they say the patients are crazy_. Who would voluntarily go into that room? The guy was clearly a master manipulator.

After the latest doctor left the room with a look of relief on his face, Harley spoke up. "I'd like to try, sir." All speech in the room just _stopped._ Then all the doctors began to protest.

"Quiet!" Gordon said. The incensed doctors shut up. "What's wrong with Dr. Quinzel giving him a try? Nothing else has worked."

"Sir, she's a woman! She'll be easier to manipulate!" I couldn't see who said that, but Harley certainly could. Her chin rose and she gave the doctor "the look." I laughed inwardly inside; that look was not something you could just brush off.

"I resent the implication that my sex has anything to do with the matter," Harley said in an icy, venomous voice.

"I do too; Dr. Quinzel, you may examine the Joker," Commissioner Gordon said. 

_Whoa, whoa, what?!_ I coughed, trying to tell her that _hey, Tierney's here too, did you forget that fact?_

I shouldn't have reminded her. "And Tierney comes with me too. " More protests, more fuss. "She could be just the thing we need to keep the Joker's attention: a real Arkham inmate." I could feel my cheeks burn, and I stared at the floor. "Tierney will behave herself." _What am I, a pet? _"All we can do is try," Harley insisted. Finally, everybody gave in. Harley is like that; she gets everyone to do it her way.

I tried not to look nervous as I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants. The few facts about the Joker that Harley had whispered to me were bizarre: no identity, homicidal maniac, took on the Batman, killed numerous people. In short, as crazy as you could get. Harley collected herself too, smoothing her skirt and tucking her hair behind her ears before taking a deep breath and pushing open the door leading to the room on the other side of the mirror.

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**Evil cliffie! haha. so, here's your prompt for reviewing: how well do you think I did the Joker? And if you think I didn't do so hot, can you give me some encouragement as to how he should be (in your opinion)? **

**The button is lonely. You should push it and make it happy. **

**~~MBE  
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	14. 13: Through the Looking Glass

**So, it comes to mind that i've been monstrously unfair to you guys. No one should have to wait a whole week for the Joker. Bad things happen. I planned update yesterday, and then my 5 second memory failed. same thing this morning. So. here it is. and like I've said before, I write short chapters. Sorry. Feel free to review and tell me how you've suffered in wait for this chapter :) And yeah, thanks so much for the reviews/story alerts. it's so much fun to check my email and find lots of alerts sitting there. **

**I'll shut up now so you can read it.**

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****13: Through the Looking-Glass, and what Alice Found There**

Harley looked smooth and professional as she walked through the door carrying a pen and pad of paper. I scurried after her, feeling about six instead of twenty-six. A guard brought in another chair for me, and then we were alone with the Joker.

Harley introduced herself. "Hello. I'm Doctor Harleen Quinzel, and this is Tierney."

Taking a breath, I said, "Hi." _Do I get bonus points since my voice didn't shake?_

He had been staring at the table between us the whole time; now his head lifted and his gaze connected with Harley's.

"_Well. _Hel-_lo_ _beau_tiful." He grinned.

"What would you like me to call you?" she asked, putting a new twist on the frequently asked question.

"Anything you like, doll." The grin stayed on his face, but his gaze snapped to me.

First thought: _deerintheheadlights!!!_

Second thought: _his makeup is coming off._

"Well, looky here, _a legit_imate crazy. What're you in for?" The muddy brown color of his eyes enhanced his strange appearance.

"Amnesia, mostly."

Harley took the reins back. "So, you're fine with me calling you Joker?"

"_The_ Joker, if ya don't, ah, _mind,_ _Harleen_?" He asked her. He was pushing his boundaries, seeing how far he could go.

"Dr. Quinzel." I couldn't stop the smile that bloomed on my face, but I covered it with my hand. I had this almost _exact_ conversation with her, and that fact made some of my nerves go away.

The Joker noted my smile anyway. "If I gotta call you _Doctor_ Quinzel, you gotta call me _Mister_."

"But don't you think Mister Joker sounds a little strange? Why don't you tell me your name?"

The Joker wasn't that easily baited. "Then call me _Mister_ J. That sounds fine, doesn't it, _Doctor?"_

Harley let the name thing go. "Alright Mister J. Do you want to tell me about what you do?"

"What I, ah, do?" he repeated, staring avidly at Harley. "What I _do_ is generate… _chaos."_

"Why?" I whisper-mumbled to myself. Harley gave me perhaps the strongest "look" I have ever gotten. I shut up.

The Joker answered me anyway. "Because it's fun, because it shakes everyone out of their little comfort zones, because chaos is a limitless commodity. Whatdidja say your name was, toots?"

"……Tierney," I said, checking with Harley first that it was okay for me to answer.

"Right, right. _Doctor_ Quinzel, you wanna know how I got these scars?" He licked his lips, running his tongue over the scars. It was distracting and disconcerting.

Harley clicked her pen. "Sure. Go ahead."

He thought for a second, and then began his tale, obviously enjoying the attention. "I was born… on the wrong side of the _tracks._ Never had a dad. Mom…_slept_ around. I was picked all during, ah, junior high and high school. Then senior year, I fell in love with this really _beautiful_ girl." The sound of his voice was enticing, pulling the both of us into his story. "But her boyfriend didn't like that, so he and his jock friends would bully me. If any, uh, teachers saw them or if I complained, they would just say I couldn't take a _joke."_ He wriggled his arms and shifted his shoulders throughout this monologue._ "_One day, they _grabbed_ me, tugged me into the restroom, and stuck a knife in my mouth. Said I was too _serious_ about things. They were going to teach me _to smile._ So they did this," He licked his scars again, making a big show out of it. Harley made a soft sound of sympathy. My eyes shifted to her; she sat on the edge of her seat, having completely abandoned her note taking.

Frowning, I told her, "Harley! He's playing you. He's probably got a million versions of that story." She blinked and shook herself, but he latched on to what I said.

"_Harley…_ Harley Quinzel, Harleen Quinzel, Harleen Quinn, Harley Quinn, HarleyQuinn, Harlequin!" He said in sing-song, and burst out laughing. Gordon stuck his head in and motioned; Harley stood.

"Good-bye Mister J," she said, grabbing her pen and paper.

"Buh-bye, Harlequin!" He said, still cackling. I got up hurriedly too and made for the door. The laughter cut off abruptly and the Joker said, "You, crazy –wait." I turned slowly; was he talking to me? "You should try generating chaos sometime. You might even find it _fun,_ little Piper."

I could _feel _the blood drain from my face. _"What?"_

"You heard me." He grinned his arrogant grin again.

Harley was yanking on my arm, trying to get me out of the room. I grabbed the doorframe and wouldn't let go, trying to find a purchase on the smooth metal. "How do you know my name? _How?!_" One of the orderlies pried my fingers off the frame before the door slammed down on them. All the way back to my cell, I kept thinking one thing: _HOW DOES HE KNOW?!?!_

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**HOW DOES HE KNOW?!?!?!**

**If you review... you might find out. XD  
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	15. 14: Unwind

**This is rather short. :P Sorry. It provides backup for some of the coming chapters, however. Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts! :)**

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**14: Unwind (hopefully without breaking)**

Back in Harley's office, we were kind of both in shock. The utter silence screamed deafeningly.

I finally said, "How did he know? What _is_ he, that he gets into people's heads like that?" My heart was still doing acrobatics in my chest.

Harley ran a hand through her hair and put her reading glasses on. "He could be the breakthrough of my career if Dr. Arkham will give him to me. He'd better. I was the only one he would talk to! The only one!"

_And you're taking pride in this?_ I replayed the discussion in my mind, reliving his laugh and seeing his appearance before my eyes again. "He talks with his hands," I said to myself.

"What?" Harley asked, staring at me. The glasses seemed to make her blue eyes bigger.

"The Joker. When he was telling his scar story, he kept…well, fidgeting, and his shoulders rolled and things. So I just thought, maybe he talks with his hands, and the straitjacket kept him from doing that."

Harley scribbled that down. "Do you think if he had his hands free I could learn more about him?"

Why was she asking me? "Maybe. He'd be more expressive, anyway." I waited a moment. "Do you want my opinion?"

She considered. "I'll hear it." She tapped her pen against her lips, thinking.

I flipped my brown hair off my shoulders and said, "I think someone should scrub his makeup off. It's coming off anyway, and I think that's one of the biggest reasons people fear him, because of the way he looks. It might take away some of his bravado, too; make him open up more. It's just a thought." _And I want to see what he looks like with his makeup off. Would I know him if his face wasn't painted?_

Harley scribbled it down anyway. "You might have a point there. Did you really think," she asked, looking at me earnestly, "that he wanted to talk to me more than the other doctors?"

"You stayed in longer than most of them. I guess; I don't really know." _I wouldn't want to be the Joker's object of attention any more than necessary. Oh well, to each his own._ "What did this guy do anyway? Like, specifically?"

Harley leaned back in her padded chair and looked at the bookshelf to her left, whose shelves were filled with textbooks, binders, knickknacks, and a row of cheap romance novels. Weird, Harley didn't strike me as the type that would go for those books. But it was ironic that they were Harlequin romance novels. _Harlequin… _Shivers ran over my back, but I tried not to show it.

"He robbed a mob bank soon after the fear gas mess got cleaned up, and then offered his services to the mob. They paid him to kill the Bat-man. He caused general havoc in Gotham, blowing up Gotham General Hospital, killing a judge, police commissioner, and attempted to kill the mayor and the DA, Harvey Dent. The last thing he did was rig the ferries to blow up and gave each boat the other's detonators. It was a test to see if they'd blow each other up before he blew them both up."

"Crazy," I said, shaking my head.

"No, rather ingenious, actually." Harley smiled.

…_Riiiiight, Harley._ "So then what happened?"

"Batman stopped him and caught him. He's been at MCU for a week, and then they moved him to Arkham today."

"Why didn't I know about any of this?!"

I didn't like her condescending look. "You had amnesia, Tierney."

Dumb blonde. "This happened _after_ I was found, after the fear gas. Are the inmates here so out of the loop?"

"It's for the best. Most in here can't handle that kind of information." _Yeah right._ "Now what was it that you wanted to tell me?" She looked up expectantly.

I stood. "I forgot," I snapped, and walked out of the room.

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**The button is telling you to review.... if you review I'll update faster.... so push the nice button and make the author happy..... :D**


	16. 15: Do I have to Scream?

**Okay. The first thing you should do is be happy, because this was originally going to be two different chapters. but I realized they'd be UBER short so i put them together. So. more for you, right? Second thing: I love favorites and alerts, but reviews are still cool too. And they kinda slacked off. Soooo... we couldn't quite make 10 before, so I'm shooting for 8 before I get the next one up. And if we go over, yay for you! you get a cyber high five. anyways... here we go!**

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**15: Do I have to scream?**

_Does anybody know how I feel?  
Sometimes I'm numb, sometimes I'm overcome  
Does anybody care what's going on?  
Do I have to wear my scars like a badge on my arm  
For you to see me, I need release  
Do I have to scream for you to hear me?  
Do I have to bleed for you to see me?  
'Cause I grieve, you're not listening to me  
Do I need to scream?_

**Scream ~~ ZOEgirl**

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I walked into the Arkham cafeteria and got in line for a tray. I felt very tired –mentally, not physically. Beating at the invisible wall in your head that's hiding all your memories from you takes a lot out of you. Getting a plate of food, I walked over and sat down at our usual table. I thought maybe I would have a few minutes of quiet before the rest of them arrived.

No such luck.

"Ah, Alice, how was your session with the darling Doctor Quinzel?" I looked up to see Edward. Had he started calling me Alice too? Fabulous. I looked back down at my plate of food. "Fine, and don't call me Alice." I had skipped the Rec room time and tried to take a nap and get that clown out of my head. It didn't work; I woke up feeling worse.

"WOuLd yoU liKe some tEa?" Jervis asked, sitting on the other side of me. He had been getting weirder lately. He kept asking the guards to give him hats. A rather disturbing thing, since he had been incarcerated in this place for mind control. Using hats.  
"No Jervis, I don't like tea," I told him, for maybe the umpteenth time. The smell of the food was making me nauseous. I pushed my plate away and propped my head in my hands, sighing.

"Good evening, Jervis, Edward." That same familiar but deadly voice broke through my thoughts.

"_Don't_ ignore me; I'm right here," I told him sharply. I felt like adding, _you insensitive cad._

"Ah, Miss Lawson. How are you?" I didn't think he had the ability to be sarcastic; apparently I had been wrong.

"Not good, but it's none of your business."

"Then why did you tell me?" Crane walked around me and sat in front of me. Did I have to look at him while I tried to eat this awful food? I peeked around my hands and saw him make a face at his own plate. Today's special was cauliflower and mystery meat doused in an unknown sauce.

"Regretting not upgrading the quality of food while you still had your position, doctor?" Edward asked, grinning. His red hair was flaming more than usual today.

Crane raised an eyebrow behind his glasses. "No. They put the drugs in the food." Instant silence descended around our table. "What, you didn't know? Why do you think you stopped taking pills? They give everyone a general dose in the food supply, and those that need more… help, receive extra individual dosing."

_Is no part of my life safe from this place?!_

I stood up, feeling sick. I had to get out of there. As I sped for the door, I could hear their calls behind me, but I didn't stay to hear them. "Bathroom," I told the guard, with my hand over my mouth. He followed me down the hall and posted himself by the door as I dashed in. I barely made it to the toilet in time.

Kneeling on the hard gray tile floor, I slammed the seat up and hurled the contents of my stomach into the porcelain bowl. I retched a time or two more, then flushed. The water and throw-up slowly spiraled out of sight down the drain, but I didn't feel much better. I slowly pushed myself up off the floor and over to the line of sinks.

I washed my mouth out to rid myself of the acid taste, and happened to glance at my reflection in the mirrors, which were in front of the small cabinets that held toothpaste and toothbrushes. The woman staring back at me appeared to be in her mid-twenties, with dark brown hair hanging past her shoulders and brown eyes that stood out in her pale face. I watched as tears beaded in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. I touched my face; it was wet.

Bowing my head, I gripped the rim of the sink as I broke down in sobs, shoulders heaving, my whole body shaking. _How can I go on like this? I don't know who I AM! Then some crazy murderer comes along and suddenly knows the one part of me I remember. My world was already fragile –now it's made of glass, sitting at the top of a high shelf, and teetering on the edge. _I reached over my shoulder and felt the skin on my back, tracing a scar that snaked around the back of my neck to my shoulder. I couldn't help wondering if I had gotten it at the same time as the tally marks scars on my arm.

_I don't even know how I got these scars. Oh God, do you hear me? Do you see me? Are you there? I don't know how much longer I can go on._

The only people I thought I could count on let me down. I stared into my reflection's eyes, and all the frustration and anger I felt welled up all at once, overwhelming the sorrow and fear.

I didn't bother to count to ten. I pulled back my fist and broke the mirror.

Glass shards bit into my hands and knuckles, making them bleed. I hit the mirror again, shattering more glass.

"Hey!" the guard yelled, opening the door. "Stop that!"

I could see the unpainted wood of the cabinet behind the busted glass, and I kept on smashing my fists into it until the last vestige of my reflection was gone. It was only when I stopped that I actually felt the pain in my hands. Looking down, I stared at the bloody wreckage of my hands and dizziness set in. I dimly remembered doctors and orderlies surrounding me in the bathroom, and me yelling as the poked and prodded my hands, which were full of glass shards.

_Is this what it takes for people to notice me?_

The infirmary was one of the few quiet places in Arkham, probably because most of the patients were sedated, but it was still nice. Harley was there; someone had come and gotten her once they moved me to the infirmary. She walked in with her coat on, as if she had been on her way out the door when she had gotten the message about my little self-destruct rampage.

My newly bandaged hands ached; I had punched the mirror into pieces, and my hands were protesting their abuse. _I'm sorry,_ I wanted to tell them. Anger wasn't the smartest thing to act on. I really thought I was stupid; and I knew my hands thought so too. _You're an idiot, Piper. Who punches glass because they're angry? You, that's who. You're such a moron. _

_I hate myself._

"Tierney?" Harley asked, walking over to the bed I was sitting on. It was the first time I had actually heard her sound unsure.

I looked up and let my red-rimmed eyes meet her blue ones. "I seem to keep ending up here," I mumbled to myself.

"I want to say …I'm sorry for not listening to you when you wanted to talk. I wasn't doing right by my job or by you. I promise that it will never happen again."

My eyes dropped from her gaze and I said, "I forgive you."

She smiled awkwardly and said, "Let's talk tomorrow, alright?"

I nodded tiredly, and she left, heels clicking on the floor. A nurse touched my shoulder gently and gave me some pills and a cup of water. I took them; I didn't care anymore. Lying back on the cot, I curled into a ball and shut my eyes. I fell asleep.

My sleep was deep, and my dreams, for the first time in a long time, were peaceful. Ironic, considering the circumstances. I slept for a long time, but eventually I drifted back to consciousness. The continuous repetition of a hand running its fingers through my hair and smoothing it woke me up gradually. I didn't really realize I was awake first; in fact, I might not have been completely awake at all.

"Tierney?" a voice whispered. My eyes slowly opened and focused on Jonathan Crane's face. He stopped stroking my hair and reached for my hands. "Oh God, Tierney, don't do that to me again!" He said heatedly, still whispering. I made a small note of pain; he was squeezing the cuts. Noticing, he shifted his grip to my palms. _That's better, _I wanted to say, but my mouth wasn't moving.

"They gave you a drug to make you sleep, and it won't let you move until you sleep the drug off. But repetitive stimulus can wake you up." He paused before the words rushed out of him in a flood. "Tierney…_Piper_…I lied about the antidote. They never gave it to me. I can mask its effects to a certain extent, and it does decrease in potency over time, but my thoughts were in turmoil. But when I met you…I started to think rationally again. I could function, reason, and fight the gas still in my system. _I'm sorry_ I said those things to you that day. When we started avoiding each other, the madness began encroaching again, coming back. Tierney, _please_, promise you'll never do that to me again –I can't take it."

I saw many things in his dark eyes, and I could have named them all many things: desperation, resolve, desire, fears, pleading; it didn't matter. It all boiled down to the fact that he needed me. _Me._ No matter who I was. He clutched my hands tightly. My mouth couldn't move to form the words I wanted to say. I managed to move my head up and down a little bit.

He saw.

"Thank you," he told me, his eyes outpouring an emotion I had never seen from him before: gratitude. He hesitated, but them leaned over and kissed my hair lightly. I closed my eyes as the light pressure on my hair lifted. "Sleep, Tierney," Jonathan told me as I drifted off into oblivion again.

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_Every day's the same  
She fights to find her way  
She hurts, she breaks, she hides, and tries to pray  
She wonders why, does anyone ever hear her when she cries?_

This is the dark before the dawn  
The storm before the peace  
Don't be afraid 'cause seasons change and  
God is watching over you  
He hears you  
**When She Cries ~~ Britt Nicole**

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**Remember -- 8 reviews!!! :D**


	17. 16: Chaos is exciting, isn't it?

**Soooo... thanks so much for all the reviews/alerts!!! it was awesome. I'm pretty sure we hit the 8 mark. but I didn't upload til now because of tests and an out of town trip! extremely sorry!!!!! You all are awesome for waiting so long. And just so you know, these aren't in Tierney's POV. I hope to get the next chapter up soon, so review review review!!!**

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**16: Chaos is exciting, isn't it?**

Jonathan Crane slipped out of the infirmary without the nurse seeing him enter or exit. He slipped down the dark hallway. Midnight was a very good time for sneaking. Those fools still thought he was in his cell. Well, he had helped design parts of the Asylum when certain sections needed to be repaired in the past. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He could get around the Arkham just fine; he could even get his hands on a set of keys if he needed them, but the one thing he couldn't do was get _out_ of the Asylum completely. For that he would need help.

He had told Tierney the truth. Every bit of what he had said was true. Jonathan just hadn't told her _all_ of the truth. He wasn't going to stay in Arkham forever. Escape occupied his thoughts most of the time, actually. The other things were 1) the madness brought on by the fear gas, and 2) Tierney. That dark-haired woman was quite special; he had known since she had been admitted to Arkham. She was an anchor in the midst of a whirlpool of madness. He _did_ need her to keep him focused and sane. But Crane also needed her for his breakout plan. He stopped and tapped on the glass of a cell. Edward Nashton walked to the door and stared out at Crane while Jervis Tetch peered under Edward's arm.

Crane said through the glass, "Things are coming together. Be ready some time this week." He walked off down the hall. Come to think of it, the Joker might have a part to play in his plan as well. As he slipped back in his cell, he pondered that thought. It could work. It would need some fine-tuning and a little luck, but it would work.

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Dr. Harleen Quinzel entered the Joker's cell for the second time that week. Outwardly, she appeared to be a strong tower, firm on her foundations. Inwardly, she quaked. Ever since this man had appeared in Gotham she had had a strange fascination with him. Now he had been admitted to Arkham Asylum, and she had landed the job of his psychiatrist. She was bordering between excitement, fascination, and an extreme case of nerves. The guard entered before her, placing a metal chair across the room from the man sitting on the cot in a straitjacket. She stopped him. "I want the straitjacket taken off."

"He's going to have to have some kind of restraint, Doctor," the guard said in protest.

"Then handcuff him. But I want the straightjacket off." He was reluctant even though Arkham handcuffs were specially designed, and even more reluctant when she told him to stay outside. She understood his concerns. If the Joker tried anything, he would be too far away to intervene before it was too late. She made him leave anyway. She tucked her blond hair behind her ears and scooted the chair closer to the unresponsive figure. Then she made eye contact.

"Good morning, Mister J."

The green-haired man's stare was just as potent without his makeup. Harleen could see his scars brought into sharp relief, as well as the slightly pale pallor of his skin. "_Good _morning? Tell me, _Doc-tor_ Quin-zel, what's good about it?" She shivered delightfully; his voice pattern was the same as from a few days ago. She had decided to follow Tierney's advice, only afterwards wondering if removing his makeup would trigger a release from his Joker persona. Evidently not. She was glad.

"I suppose the fact that it's a beautiful day."

"But _I_ can't see this bee-u-t-iful day. Maybe I think it's a _bad_ day." He continued to pop his 't's, and his voice dipped down low on 'bad.' The corner of his mouth twisted in a smirk, and his dark eyes stared at her.

Harley made a note of this on her clipboard. _Wonder if it's random, or constant?_ She didn't understand where he was going with this statement, though. "I don't see your point."

"My _poin-t_?" The Joker said, popping the 't' again. "My poin-t is that it's all a matter of perspective, doc. Now, take killing." He lifted his hand off his lap, where they had been resting and motioned toward him self. "_I_ kill. But _you,"_ he motioned toward her, "think it's bad. Why?"

_Tierney was right –he does talk with his hands._ "Because killing is wrong," she told him, scooting her chair closer to him. This was getting interesting.

"_Why?" _He asked, raising his eyebrows. "What is it that says killing is wrong? What is it that says blowing things up is bad? What is it that says crazy isn't normal?" He pointed at her. "You don't know, …do you?"

She could certainly address his last point. "The vast majority of people are not crazy, therefore being crazy isn't normal. Normal is based on a majority average."

"_That_ is where you're wrong." He paused, running his tongue over his lips. "_Most_ people _are_ crazy –they just don't know it yet. When they're inside their _little_ bubbles, they ignore their crazy side. But when someone… like _me…_" he grinned, "Pops their _little_ bubbles, they can't deal with it, and out comes their _crrrraaaazy_ side."

Dr. Quinzel frowned, shaking her head. "It's an interesting idea, but there is no basis in fact for it. I can't accept–"

Suddenly, he leaned forward and grabbed her hands in his cuffed ones. She froze, not daring to move. She felt like she was falling into his deep, dark eyes. "_Har-_ley _Quin-_zel. You need to stop believing only _facts."_ She tried to pull her hands away, but his grip felt like a vise. "Shshshsshhshh. You have _no idea_ what chaos is. But it excites you. _Doesn'_t it?" His makeup-less face smirked at her. _"I _excite you. _Don'_t I?"

She knew her cheeks were flushing a deep vermillion. She gathered her courage. "Do I have to call the guard, or are you going to let me go?" To her complete shock, he dropped her hands and leaned back against the wall, his expression becoming one of complete boredom. She stood and left, telling the guard he could put the straightjacket back on.

Back in her office, she put her head down on her desk. She was going to fail. She was going to fail, and everyone would laugh at her, saying that she couldn't handle the Joker, and she would never get another important case again. Harley lifted her head up and touched her cheeks. They were still warm. She shouldn't have asked for the straitjacket to be taken off. She shouldn't have… she shouldn't have…

Moaning, she rubbed her eyes and grabbed a book off the shelf, one of her favorites. She would deal with her problem in thirty minutes. Right now, she'd curl up on her couch and lose herself in her favorite novel.

But she had forgotten that the main male character had a name that started with a 'J'.

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**That button is very enticing.... it needs to be pressed.... go on... you know you want to! Tell me how I did!**


	18. 17: Sing, Piper

**IT BEHOOVES YOU TO READ THE STUFF IN BOLD.**

**Okay, so. I haven't updated fast, right? and ya know why? cuz I got 3 reviews. I know AT LEAST 10 people have story alerted this, and thanks so much for that, but I'd appreciate a review saying 'hey, I am actually reading this, and I hope you keep updating' or something like that. I am done with this story, and I'm working on the sequel. So it's just sitting on my computer, waiting to be updated. The reviews tell me that you WANT it to be updated. so however fast I update is totally in your hands.**

**And the fun disclaimer: if I owned this, why on earth would I be writing fanfiction about it?!**

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**17: Sing, Piper**

I had been asleep for almost two days, and I woke up just in time for my session with Harley. Fabulous. While I was waiting her to enter the conference room, I tried to remember what had gone when Jonathan Crane had come to see me. Had it been real? Or was it just a dream? I couldn't remember; the fuzziness of the drug had been messing with me.

Harley pushed open the door, clicking her way inside on her heels. She was wearing a deep emerald blouse. Lots of color was rare for her. I raised an eyebrow, but still said, "You look nice."

"Thanks," she said, blushing. Whoa, did she have a date or something? This was not the Harley I was used to dealing with. She sat and opened up my file and began asking me questions, but I could tell her mind was on something else. I logged this thought and put it at the back of my mind to deal with later. Part of the book deal was that I take session seriously. How you did that when your psychiatrist asked you the silliest questions, I had no clue, but I had promised to try, at any case. After half an hour, when she started gathering up her things to leave, I asked her, "Harley, what's bugging you?"

She paused, and looked up at me, our eyes meeting. "Can I ask you something, Tierney?"

"Sure."

"I'm…letting the Joker out of solitary. I want to see how he acts around other patients, but I can't watch him all the time." She took a deep breath. "So, I wanted you to watch him for me."

Wow. Just…just wow. "Like spying?" I rubbed my wounded hands absently as I thought about this.

"Yes. I've given him a schedule exactly like yours, you'd be in all the same things together, and during our sessions you'd tell me about what he's doing. And I thought since he might be connected to your past that you'd want to –"

I held my bandaged hands up. "Whoa, whoa Harley. You don't have to sell me. I'll do it."

This man had a connection to me, somehow, some way –and I was determined to learn what it was.

But my courage failed me when I entered the rec room. I edged over to where Edward, Jervis, and Jonathan sat, trying to stay under the radar. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, but a chainsaw would work better. The room was full of freaks, weirdos, and crazies, but the Joker was the extreme crazy that had terrorized Gotham for a month. The other guys didn't really appreciate him being there. He was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, still handcuffed. The two guards inside the door that usually sat around and napped during Rec Room time were on the alert today, tense and high strung. _Do they really think someone will try to kill the Joker?_ The man –with no makeup this time –looked completely relaxed. Low murmurs began circulating around the room, whirlpool style. I stared as hard as I could at his face. Nothing rang any bells, but something nigged at the back of my mind. However, it refused to come to the forefront.

Looking back and forth between inmates, trying to figure out what was going to happen, my gaze landed on a large rectangular object covered up by a sheet. I poked Edward. "What's that?"

"No idea." He didn't care about the mysterious object; Edward was more concerned with the trouble brewing.

All Jervis said when I asked him was, "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" and I figured that meant he didn't know.

I stared at Jonathan out of the corner of my eye, trying to decide if he had actually come to me while I was in the infirmary, or if I had dreamed it all. I couldn't figure it out, so I asked him if _he_ knew what the unidentifiable object was. He shook his head in the negative.

I ignored the present tension over the Joker and focused completely on the sheet-draped object. Elusive and subtle, its shape tugged at the edge of my locked memory, intriguing and inviting, begging to be discovered. I slipped out of my seat and walked around the room to get to it. All the while, the mutters grew in intensity, and suddenly broke up on the shore when Bane stood and growled something out to the Joker. At this point I couldn't even hear them, so great was the pull of the unobtrusive object. My fingers reached out and touched the cool fabric of the threadbare sheet; I pulled the sheet off, watching the fabric ripple like water in a brook.

The scarred wood seemed to gleam with polish to me. As I lifted the lid and ran my hand over the ivory keys, I did not see this old, upright piano that had obviously seen better days; in my mind's eye I saw a large, black Grand piano –Steinway. The memory grew as a window formed behind the Grand and light spilled through, washing the un-chipped ivory keys. Pure, sweet notes floated through the air as hands –my hands –ran over the keys, playing a beautiful melody.

The memory died abruptly as my fingers lost their grip on the actual piano's lid, and it slammed down on the keys. Startled, I jumped, making a fist. _Had I actually played like that? Can…can I still play like that? My hands…_ I re-opened the piano lid and pulled a rickety bench out from under the piano, sitting. Hesitantly pressing my finger to a key, _…middle C…_ I heard the note sound. I ran my fingers down the keys slowly, then faster. Played a scale. My hands were only mildly protesting. Then I modulated into a song. Where the notes and words came from, I had no idea, but the song seemed right, somehow, to break up the mood. _Sing your heart out, Piper,_ the whisper of memory said.

So I did.

"The lights go out all around me  
One last candle to keep out the night  
And then the darkness surrounds me  
I know I'm alive, but I feel like I died  
And all that's left is to accept that it's over  
My dreams ran like sand through the fists that I made  
I try to keep warm but I just grow colder  
I feel like I'm slipping away."

The agitated atmosphere paused, and some of the inmates turned to listen. My voice wavered, but drew strength from the lyrics that kept flowing into my mind, and my damaged fingers kept tapping out the melody.

"After all this has passed, I still will remain  
After I've cried my last  
There'll be beauty from pain  
Though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again  
And there'll be beauty from pain  
You will bring beauty from my pain."

I could feel eyes on me from all sides of the room, especially two pairs of burning eyes. One pair belonged to Jonathan; the other belonged to the Joker.

_Let's see how much you know about me, 'Mister J'._

"My whole world is the pain inside me  
The best I can do is just get through the day  
When life before is only a memory  
I wonder why God lets me walk through this place  
And though I can't understand why this happened  
I know that I will when I look back someday  
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes  
And made me as gold purified through these flames.

After all this has passed, I still will remain  
After I've cried my last  
There'll be beauty from pain  
Though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again  
And there'll be beauty from pain  
You will bring beauty from my pain

Here I am at the end of me  
Trying to hold to what I can't see  
I forgot how to hope; this night's been so long  
I cling to your promise: there will be a dawn

After all this has passed, I still will remain  
After I've cried my last  
There'll be beauty from pain  
Though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again  
And there'll be beauty from pain  
You will bring beauty from my pain."

I struck the last chord, and the music died away. Staring at the keys of the piano, I caressed them like a long-lost friend, now found, being careful to not let the bandages of my now-aching hands catch on the edges of the keys. The room was devoid of all sound until the bell rang to signal suppertime. Jonathan touched my shoulder as we walked out and said, "That was beautiful, Tierney."

I looked into his face and I could not read it. So I just said, "Thank you."

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**This may seem fillerish, but exciting things are ahead!!! review to make me update!  
~~MBE  
PS-- I do not own the song. It's 'Beauty from Pain' by Superchic[k] if anyone wants to know. One of my faves. :)**


	19. 18: Confrontations

**Told ya review =faster updates. It came to my attention that I might have sounded harsh, and I didn't wanna sound down on y'all. I understand about jobs, school and life in general getting in the way. It happens to me too :P So I just ask that when you get a breather from life, and find some down time to open the computer and get around to reading all your stories, that you'd tap out a line or so once you finish reading. D'accord? (means something like okay or agreement. I've been reading Xmen Romy fanfics recently)**

**Here ya go! and thanks so much to the people who reviewed! *throws a cyber hug out to all* :)**

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**18: Confrontations**

"Clean cup, clean cup. Move down, Alice," Jervis told me as we sat down with our food.

"Uh huh," I said, trying to agree to whatever obscure quote he was spouting now.

Edward sat down beside Jervis around the round table and asked me, "What has branches and leaves and no bark?"

I put a gauze-wrapped hand to my forehead and said, "Really Edward? I don't…"

"Think about it for a second. You'll know it if you try," he said encouragingly. His trademark grin pleaded me to guess his joke while Jonathan rolled his eyes as he sat next to me.

I pushed my plate away and thought. "Uhh… a shaved tree? I don't know. My brain isn't working very well right now."

"A library!" he told me triumphantly.

"Oh! I get it…. Good one."

"How do you, ah, _sto-p_ a dog from barking in July?" The 'p' popped when he said it. I'm pretty sure the whole table froze for half a second.

Edward finally said, "You shoot it in June, of course." Loud, cackling, _maniacal_ laughter erupted unexpectedly from behind my left ear, and I jerked. It stopped as abruptly as it started, and the Joker plopped himself in the seat immediately to my left. "Very good," he told Edward, pointing his fork at him.

"That's why they call me the Riddler," Edward replied with a touch of pride.

Jervis started quoting. " '"Must a name mean something?" Alice asked doubtfully.

"Of course it must," Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh; "my name means the shape I am –and a good handsome shape it is, too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost."' "

The Joker raised an eyebrow. "Who's he?"

"The Mad Hatter. You know, from Alice in Wonderland," Edward told him.

"Where is my hat, Alice?" Jervis asked me. I didn't even know if he had a hat.

"Check your room after supper, Jervis," I told him, trying not to look at the Joker. He didn't close his mouth when he chewed.

"Delusional," Jonathan said.

I poked him with a gauze-wrapped finger. "Hey. He's not as bad as some."

"Do you mean _me, Pi_per?" the Joker said, using my nickname. _Don't say my name,_ I wanted to tell him. I_ actually_ meant Crane, when he was in his scarecrow persona, but he wouldn't have known that.

"Dr. Crane, are you going to try to analyze the Joker?" Edward asked, deflecting the loaded question.

Crane sat back in his chair and watched the Joker with utter scrutiny. "No," he said at long last. "Quinzel is your doctor. She's going to fail, and fail miserably with you. I want to watch."

The Joker's yellow grin appeared, along with his now-familiar cackle. "_Har_-ley _Quin_-zel. She has potential for a lot of _fun. HAHAheeheehehoohooahhahaha!!"_

That did not bode well for Harley.

Jonathan slipped out of his cell again that night. He made his way around the secure floor, avoiding the security cameras. It was quite easy if you knew where to step. He found the cell he wanted and rapped on the glass, that particular camera turned off by a helpful guard that was crooked; he was also scared spit less of Crane. The clown inside lazily looked up and burst into laughter. Crane's expression did not change.

The Joker sobered. "Doc, you really need to learn to lighten up."

The side of his mouth twisted grimly. Crane had said the same thing to the Bat-man when he had lit the Bat on fire. Crane tried to reach for the fear gas canister, even though he didn't have it anymore. He wanted his fear gas and his mask, and he wanted them _soon. _"I can get you out of here."

"Do tell," the Joker said. Crane found his smile disturbing. It was like seeing double –you saw both his lips and his scars. "I kinda get that, since you're standing outside my cell. The, uh, question _is, _doc, _why_ do you _want _me out of here?"

"I can open up cells, move around Arkham, and turn off security cameras. I can't get outside of the building proper. You're good at impromptu plans."

"I don't _plan_ at all," the Joker sneered.

"And yet you always seem to accomplish what you set out to do." Jonathan Crane's blue eyes were humorless. "Are you in or out?"

"Heh. Well, since you put it _tha_t way…" the Joker smacked his lips. "In."

Jonathan unclenched his fist. "We move in two days."

"Who's 'we'?" The Joker asked, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Myself, you, the Riddler, the Mad Hatter, and… Tierney."

"Don't you mean _Piper?"_ The Joker cackled. "She was always _a grrr_eat singer."

Crane frowned menacingly. "How do you know her?"

"Ask _her,"_ the Joker said, loosing interest.

"She has amnesia."

The Joker smiled. "E_xac_tly." Crane started to turn away, but was stopped when the Joker said, "Wait."

He turned back, his icy blue eyes frowning with impatience.

"There's something I wanna know before you go."

* * *

**What does the Joker want to know?!**

**Is something going to happen to Harley?**

**And will Jervis ever stop calling Tierney Alice?**

**Review to find out!  
**


	20. 19: You must be Joking

**I got a little carried away with another idea I've had about the X-men, so I've been preoccupied. Thanks so much to the people who reviewed! Here is the next chap.**

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**19: You must be joking**

The next day

"Ah, Miss Quinzel. It is quite a delight to see you again. However, you are not Dr. Lehman," Crane said pointedly. He was in the conference room for his little session with his psychiatrist. He was greater than all of them; the rest were just fools. But Harleen Quinzel was the worst of the lot. She actually believed she had gotten her job because of her qualifications. But Jonathan knew better. When he had seen her job application and resume, he had turned her down, but she must have been sent to multiple staff members, because she had been accepted at Arkham anyway. He had held a grudge that the other doctors had usurped his authority by accepting her. So he never used her title.

"Good morning, Dr. Crane. Dr. Lehman called in sick, and he asked me to take his caseload for today," the blond doctor replied, sitting across from him. "And do I have to remind you that I am in fact a _doctor?"_

He leaned back in his chair. "At least once more, Miss Quinzel. I hear you have taken on the _Joker_. How is that coming along?"

Harley glared at him. Would he never call her doctor? He could at least extend the same courtesy to her that she did to him. She debated ignoring his question and going on to the routine examination questions, but she knew Crane had all the right answers. "As well as can be expected, _doctor._"

"Really." Crane smiled.

_He actually wants me to fail!_ Harley thought. "In fact, he's my next patient to see."

"Aha." Same annoying smug smile.

_I'll show you, Dr. Crane! I'll get more out of him than you could ever get! I will succeed! I will!_

"Let's get on with it, shall we?" She asked, opening his folder. Harley began asking the regular questions shrinks asked the mentally ill, and he responded with all the right answers.

_I __will__ show you._

_

* * *

  
_

Harley strode boldly into the Joker's cell, once again telling the guard to remove the straight jacket and leave them alone. This was their sixth session.

"Hello, Mister J," Harley said, skipping the 'good morning' bit. She stared at the man across from her. Somehow, plain skin didn't suit him. He looked much better in his makeup.

He looked up at her without speaking. She was wearing a deep red top and matching high heels. From the set of her shoulders, it appeared she was going into battle. With him? Someone else? Or herself? He smiled and finally spoke. "_Harrr-_ley _Quin._ I like it."

"Have you renamed me, Mister J?" she asked, smiling condescendingly.

"Why not? All you _doc_-tors try to rename _me,_" he told her with a smirk. "What's in a name, anyway?"

She took his bait. "Your identity, I suppose."

"Exact-ly, doll. Now, take _me," _he motioned toward himself with his cuffed hands. "You keep _asking_ me what my name is. My _name_ doesn't _matter._ What matters is_ who I am._" He leaned forward so that their faces were only two feet apart. _"I'm_ the _Joker."_

She blinked reflexively, and stared down at her file, trying to figure out what questions she had been planning on asking, but her brain wouldn't focus. She managed to spit out a few more questions without looking at him. He didn't answer her, so she began to jot down: _patient is unwilling to talk…_

She froze as a hand reached out and closed over the hand holding the pen. Reflex took over, and she instinctively tried to pull her hand away. He pivoted on the heel of one hand over the table and onto the other side while still holding on to her with his other hand. She stood quickly, trying to get to the panic button under the desk.

She never got close enough. He grabbed that hand too, and pinned her against the wall. "And _you,_" he told her, smiling and picking up the conversation right where he had left it, "_you're_ a harlequin. Harley-Quinn. A Clown. Like _me_."

"How –how did you –" she began, staring at the open handcuffs that he had shaken off onto the floor.

"Ah ah ah, that's a _secret,"_ he said, gripping her wrists harder.

Her blue eyes pin-balled back and forth across his face, looking for malice or harmful intent. But all Harley saw were scars: bumpy, mangled flesh that had not been properly sewn together (if it had been sewn at all), dark eyes that stared down at her, long, tangled, badly dyed hair pushed back from a widow's peak. Hardly knowing what she did, she pulled against his hold with shaking arms, and _he let her hands go,_ switching his grip to her shoulders. Speechless, Harley reached up to cup his face with her hands. Her thumbs ran over the scar tissue beside his mouth.

_This man isn't a monster_, she realized. _He's hurting, scarred and rejected by society. _He had put on makeup and a costume and proceeded to lash out at the instigators of his pain. _He needs love, not hate._

So she kissed him. His lips were soft and warm, marred only by the scar tissue at the corners of his mouth. She went further, wrapping her arms around his neck, desperately wanting to stay there in that moment forever, because he was kissing her back.

The rattle of keys in a lock shattered the moment. Harley pulled away and grabbed her files that had slid to the floor. When she looked up again, the Joker was sitting back in his chair, handcuffed, looking bored. The guard stuck his head in to say, "Time's up." Harley walked out the door without looking back.

She knew one thing only: she was desperately, irrevocably in love with a murdering clown who had terrorized the city for months. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

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**Please review!!! :)**

**{and yes, what the Joker wanted to know in the last chapter was how to open the super duper heavy duty Arkham handcuffs!}**


	21. 20: The Great Escape

**Everyone: last chapter!!! and then the sequel. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED!!!! and this chapter is really long so have fun :D**

**20: The Great Escape!**

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_Tierney's POV_  
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It had been a normal day for me.

Went to my session, went to meals, went to group therapy, talked with Edward, Jervis, and Jonathan (who I still could not figure out), spied unsuccessfully on the Joker, and went back to my cell. Before telling the guard he could dim the lights, I read a couple chapters in _The Horse and His Boy_. And then I fell asleep.

It was not a normal night.

A hand clapped over my mouth, rudely and abruptly waking me. The question isn't who _would _scream, it's who _wouldn't_ scream if they were woken up that way. I shrieked into the hand, and a voice whispered hoarsely into my ear, "Tierney! It's Jonathan." My eyes adjusted to the darkness and realized that it was, in fact, Jonathan Crane. "Don't scream. Promise?"

I nodded, extremely confused. He removed his hand from my mouth and grabbed my hand. "What –?" I began to ask, but he shushed me.

"Don't talk. Come on." He tugged on my arm and I got up, grabbing my book on the way as he pulled me out of my cell. _How did you get in my cell? How did you get out of __yours__?!_ I wanted to ask those questions so badly. To my great shock, Edward and Jervis were waiting for us in the hall. Anticipating my question, Jonathan held a finger to his lips and glared, silencing me. We walked quickly and silently down the hall, passing sleeping inmates in their cells. We stopped at a maintenance door, and Jonathan pulled a key out from behind a pipe. "Shortcut," he whispered. Unlocking the door, it swung open on silent hinges. Once we were all inside, he closed the door behind us and yanked the chain light. "You can ask questions now," he told me, still in a low voice.

"What are you doing?!" I hissed, waving the hand that wasn't holding my book.

"Breaking out. Isn't it obvious?" He asked me, raising his eyebrow in surprise.

_You idiot._ And I didn't know if I meant him or me. "Why??" I finally asked.

"To get out of here, Tierney. Do you really want to rot in Arkham forever? Because that's what's going to happen if you don't leave now." His blue eyes scared me now. Did I want to stay here? No, of course not. Did I want to break out with criminals? For that's what they were, criminals: dangerous, insane criminals. I just realized the enormity of what I was considering.

Apparently my choice took too long. "Come on," he said, taking a hold of my wrist and leading us to another door in the large closet. I was glad it wasn't my hurting hands. He unlocked that door and opened it to reveal a dark tunnel. We all filed in and he turned out the light.

Darkness descended, but Jonathan didn't need the light, apparently. He walked confidently down the tunnel with familiarity. After a minute or two, our company halted and I heard another key scrape in a lock. We reappeared in another maintenance closet, which dumped us into another hallway. The questions threatened to bubble up again, but a glare from Crane kept my mouth shut.

We came to a stop in front of another cell; this one had a key code beside the glass on the door. Jonathan punched in something, and the door popped open. Out of the inky blackness walked the Joker. He gave me a smile, and I came to a decision. This maniac knew something about me, and the only chance I'd get to find it out would be with them. I was in.

* * *

Harley Quinn turned onto her street, glad to be home. After more than a full day at Arkham, she had gone out to a horrendously awful dinner 'with friends.' They had invited a blind date along for her. She had been incredibly frosty to the man and it was certain he would never call her, even though she had reluctantly given him her number. She just could not forget the man who had called her 'harlequin' and kissed her in his cell. Harley pulled into her driveway and parked, rummaging around in her purse for her cell phone.

She couldn't find it anywhere. She slapped her forehead as she recalled taking the call from her friends about dinner, then setting it down on her desk. Afterward, she had gone through multiple files, which had effectively covered it. _I'm so stupid._

_I can always get it tomorrow…_ But then Harley remembered the cleaning people, guards, inmates, and even the other doctors were not honest people. _I'd better go get it now if I want to keep that cell phone._ She groaned as she started her car again and turned around, heading back to Arkham Asylum.

* * *

"Where are we going?" I whispered to Jonathan as we sneaked along a hall I had never been down.

"To storage," he said, and then motioned me to zip it. I did.

We checked at the entrance to a room with a guard on duty. He sat at a table with a desk light on, reading a magazine. He yawned; he was sleepy, but definitely still awake.

"Wait here," Jonathan whispered to me, his eyes glowing. I obediently stayed where I was, but watched nervously as the approached the guard silently, Crane and the Joker on the left, and Edward and Jervis on the right.

He never had a chance. The minute he saw them they jumped on him, silently beating him unconscious. I slapped a hand to my mouth in horror and closed my eyes. Someone slapped the back of my head. Jonathan glared down at me. "Tierney, it's time you learned to be tough."

I looked away. "Why are we here?"

"This is where they keep the inmates' personal effects."

Inside the room, they all fanned out, looking for the cardboard boxes with their names on them. I stood in the middle of the room, lost. Jonathan shoved a box at me and said, "This is yours. Take it." I took it. Inside were the clothes I had stolen after I had escaped Arkham the first time. _Why am I so reluctant about leaving this time when I jumped at the chance before?_ I had no answer for myself. Underneath them were clothes I only dimly remembered.

I pulled them out. There was a black camisole and a dark green short-sleeved shirt, plus jeans and black converse. Last of all, long pieces of thick, black material with laces. _They go on my arms._ I put my thumb through its appropriate hole, and wrapped the rest of the material around my forearm, elbow, and upper arm, lacing it tight.

I waited outside while the others changed into their clothes, or, costumes, in the case of the Joker, who was attired in his purple and green suit. Jervis had on a large pea coat , and a top hat that gradually widened from the crown up. Edward's green suit and tie had question marks on them, and he wore a green bowler and a black mask. Jonathan wore a long-sleeved collared shirt and dress pants with a sweater vest. As I entered the room myself to change, I asked myself, _Do all villains in Gotham wear suits?!?!?!?_

I reappeared a few minutes later, wearing the clothes and carrying the jacket. The Joker had his makeup on by now; I jumped when I saw him. Jonathan grabbed my arm again and we left. I noticed in his other hand he had something made of burlap, and there were some canisters slung over his shoulder.

"Okay," Crane said, after we had gone down several flights of stairs, "Your turn." He was talking to the Joker.

The Clown took the lead, heading for some back entrance or something. Didn't he know all of them were guarded?

The answer to that was yes, and yes. In fact, three guards were on duty at the particular exit he picked. They saw us coming and went for their guns.

"Freeze, or she gets it!" The Joker yelled, and grabbed me, jabbing a plastic serving utensil into my neck.

First thought: Oww, what _is_ that poking me?

Second thought: They didn't want me along. I'm just a _hostage._

The guards froze in place, unsure of what to do.

"Guards, why are you all like clocks at midnight?" Edward asked, stepping forward. The men's eyes glanced back and forth between them. Were they supposed to answer? "Because your hands are going straight up, right now," Edward told them. The obeyed, and he grabbed the guns out of their holsters. The Joker dropped me as soon as Edward gave him a gun and shot all three guards. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Come _on_, Tierney," Crane growled, lifting me up and pulling me along. Did I _know_ these people? Where had the people I had talked and joked with gone?

I didn't want to know.

* * *

Harley got out of her car in the deserted north parking lot. She decided to use this entrance because it was closer to her office, and she wouldn't be detained as long. All she wanted was to go home. She slammed the car door and walked up the sidewalk to the door.

Suddenly, out of the shadows poured shapes, reaching for her throat. She had a moment of panic before vaulting into a three successive handsprings to get away. It didn't work –the getting away part, not the handsprings. Her breath caught in her throat, strangling her scream, when she came face-to-face with a fully painted and dressed Joker.

"Harley, Harley, Harley Quinn. A little fight in you, I like that," he whispered in her ear as she went limp against him.

"She'll bring us all down. Kill her," Dr. Crane said, coming into her line of sight.

The Joker considered, and Harley's heart almost stopped. "Nah," he said finally. "She's got a car. Gimme the keys, doll." Harley handed them to him with a shaking hand.

She finally got a good look at the person Crane was holding on to. "Tierney?" Harley whispered. She got a tiny wave in return.

The Joker shook her to get her attention. "Where's your car, _Harrrrley_?"

She pointed wordlessly, and he patted her on the head. "Good." They all headed for the car; the Joker dragged her along, and Crane propelled Tierney. She tried to open the driver's door, but he shoved her into the passenger's seat. " 'Scuse me, I wanna drive."

* * *

Everyone piled into the car, except me. It was a five seater, and there were six of us. "Get in," Jonathan told me threateningly. It struck me that this man wasn't the Dr. Jonathan Crane I knew; this was _Scarecrow_, and he wasn't to be messed with.

"Where?" I ventured. "There's no room." As soon as I said that, Crane, or Scarecrow, or whoever, got in the car and pulled me in after him, shutting the door. I was more or less sitting on his lap.

"Ta–da, room." He wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me still. The Joker put the car into gear and off we roared. Jervis and Edward laughed with the Joker, I'm sure Harley and I had the same shell-shocked expressions, and I had no clue what Jonathan did.

As we went speeding off into the night, I put my head into my hands. What had I gotten into?

_Fin…. For now…_

_To be Continued._

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_**I will post a prequel for the sequel and the title of the sequel once it is up!!! Heart of Friendship (everybody clap) has agreed to be my beta, so I'll be updating once a week probably, enough time to write and beta. So, a little longer wait, but hopefully better content, etc. Anyhoo, hoped you liked this.  
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**Again: thank you all so much!!!! XD  
**


	22. Preview!

**Hey Everyone! I am posting the sequel to this story! It is called "Revealing Reason" and should be up very very soon! So go look for it. **

**Again, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, story alerted, and favorited! I really appreciate it. I wish I could name you all by name, but unfortunately I delete the notification emails after I get them. I hope you enjoy the sequel as much as Searching for Sanity!**

**Thanks and Blessings,**

**~~MBE**

**THE PREVIEW!!!! XD  
**

_The Joker was a very fast driver. We careened around street corners, over curbs, and through red lights; I was extremely thankful of Crane's arms around me. Edward, Jervis, and the Joker howled with laughter as we nearly slammed into the side of the highway. Harley alternately clutched her seat and the dashboard with a look of terror on her face. I wasn't in a position to read the speedometer, but I could imagine it was far above the accepted limit. As we roared through an intersection, we caught the notice of a cop car, who expected that? Enter my sarcasm here. Its siren wailed to life as it began to pursue us...._

_Check it out, everyone!  
_


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